


DanganWhumpa V3 Collection

by Krbbftg



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: AU, Car Accident, Car Accidents, Chapter 1:, Chapter 2:, Chapter 3:, Crying, Depressed Oma Kokichi, Depressed Saihara Shuichi, Depressed Shuichi Saihara, Dissociation, Exhaustion, Flashbacks, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Insomnia, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicide, Pre-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Saihara Shuichi’s Backstory, Sleep Deprivation, Suicide Attempt, Survivors Guilt, Tired Saihara Shuichi, Whumptober 2020, broken down, death anniversary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 10:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27469762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krbbftg/pseuds/Krbbftg
Summary: Took the Whumptober prompts I liked to help me vent! Each chapter is a mini one shot.Tags updated per chapter, PLEASE CHECK THEM TO AVOID TRIGGERING YOURSELF!
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 97





	1. Tunnel Vision

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the first murder case Shuichi ever solved

_Exhaustion |_ _ ~~Narcolepsy~~_ _| Sleep Deprivation_

Hours, hours, hours. A stiff neck and more coffee, probably too much for a boy as young as fifteen. Papers, crime scene photographs; a tornado of accounts and observations splayed over his bedroom desk, only a flimsy lamp to keep them in sight.

It started out as a curiosity into his uncle’s more intense cases, potentially even an underlying desire to be helpful. Little did Shuichi know what he’d got himself into. A week later, his brain continued its non-stop ticking as he hovered over papers at unsociable hours. He couldn’t sleep even if he wanted to – every conceived possibility being one step closer to the truth.

He only noticed his panging stomach and the strain on his poor eyes when glancing towards the window. A new daylight created a pastel haze on the walls, filtered through phthalo curtains. A muted cacophony of birdsong performed outside. Last time he looked at the clock, it was midnight. It was difficult to admit to himself that, by this point, he was just waiting for his hunches to start make sense.

He closed his eyes and pinched his eyebrows together, prompting an overdramatic yawn and stretch of his arms. “Maybe that’s enough for now,” he mumbled. As he pulled himself from his desk chair, muscles screamed in his thighs and his right knee clicked in protest. His breath hitched and he sighed, staggering towards the window to open the curtains.

Four hours of sleep in two days was nothing to brag about, his headache alone proving that fact. Upon yanking the curtains aside, he winced at the dim sunrise. Tired, cloudy vision made the street below and empty restaurant opposite seem like a bleached mess of wet cotton.

He stood for a moment; nonsensical thoughts being triggered. A mere curiosity had definitely become a mild obsession. He somehow found it difficult to blame himself; the puzzle was practically begging to be solved after just two pieces of evidence matching up.

His stare grazed over the restaurant across the street, a diner-style family place with a bar on the second floor. He’d only been there once despite it being no more than a few steps away from the apartment. He visited with his uncle, just after Shuichi started taking on cases. He remembered the conversation they had, namely, the advice he swore to remember every word of.

_‘Always look for new angles.’_

He spaced out; eyes boring into a table through the distant restaurant window. He scoffed, knowing nothing good can come out of his being this tired, no matter how close he was to solving it all.

_‘And always remember to be compassionate.’_

His touched a hand against a condensed patch on the glass, water droplets vaguely refreshing his senses. He turned back to the memory.

_‘And never forget, even dots that are miles apart can connect.’_

Shuichi’s eyes widened; his mouth drifted open. “ **No way**.”

He snapped rigid irises away from the window and darted back to his desk, the rustling of a thousand pages griping under his fingertips as he searched for a different case file – a recently closed suicide case file his uncle gave him to skim over.

Eyes scurried over page to page, one file to another, checking every detail several times to make sure everything made sense, cursing himself for missing it previously.

“This has to be revenge murder.”

After explaining what he’d found to his uncle, Shuichi’s world dissolved into a mess of chaotic driving and explanations to random police officers.

Then the arrest.

The moment he’d been waiting all this time. And not how he expected it.

It was filled with more malice, guilt, and inner turmoil than he could’ve ever imagined. All from one look - a single glance.

He didn’t want to remember it. Despite his haze and dishevelled consciousness, something in him knew he could never forget. This was more than a bad dream. This was going to embody future nightmares.

The final police car pulled off the curb, containing the culprit who had violently confessed and verbally assaulted Shuichi. And suddenly all was calm. No more sirens, no more police. Adrenaline still coursed through his exhausted bones. All that remained was early morning traffic and the presence of his uncle.

He sank back into the car, blank tension cemented to his face; grey and traumatized to match the weather. The sound of nothing clashed in his ears, briefly interrupted by the sound of his uncle climbing in the driver’s side and closing the door.

A brief moment. “So,” his uncle awkwardly began, “the victim really did drive the culprit’s sister to suicide. Who’d’ve thought such different cases could be related, huh?” He forced a smirk and nudged Shuichi with his elbow in attempt to lighten the mood. Shuichi’s wide stare stayed fixed on the dashboard. “Hey, he can’t hurt you now.”

Shuichi’s lips parted. “N-no, it’s just,” he mumbled. “The look on his face.” Tears started running down his cheeks as quickly as they formed.

**“He stared at me… like he hated me more than anything else in the world.”**

Congratulations Ｓｈｕｉｃｈｉ Ｓａｉｈａｒａ

You have achieved the title of:

THE Ǘ̷̳̠͘L̸̩͒T̵̖́́I̵̘͛̇M̸̼͛͘A̸̯͋͋T̴͙̎Ë̶̪́̈́ ̸̱̫̈́D̵̛͉Ȅ̷͖̓T̸͓̫̏È̵͇́C̶͍̏͛T̴̤͛͠Ì̶̢̆V̵̳̽Ė̵̝


	2. Anniversary Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuichi mourns for Kokichi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was heavily inspired by a Whumptober work by Scornful_truth (Ao3) so definitely check out their writing!
> 
> Don't forget to check the tags to avoid triggers

_Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor’s Guilt_

Scraping of knife to plate echoed in a lonely kitchen. Shuichi’s half-touched dinner slumped into the bin, voluntarily at this point, and the crockery found its way into the sink next to yesterday’s. Making dinner every day was one thing – forcing it down was another.

He glanced out the window at the streetlamps illuminating the room. He didn’t notice it get dark, otherwise he would’ve just switched on the lights. Faint rain pattered against the glass. A shiver. He hugged his arms around himself, creating friction on his hoodie; purple and maybe a tad small for him. He couldn’t bear a glance at the calendar on his way out of the kitchen, painfully aware of the date already.

The accident. It had become more than just that with time, evolving into an army of ugly shadows, that would occasionally set out to him down with torches and pitchforks. And he had been building up for this one.

Just after midnight hit, he found himself roasting under bedsheets, being stabbed behind the eyes with rusty blue memories. He curled up on his side and pushed a palm against his forehead. Now-hammering rain, tinnitus and his no-less-than ragged breathing, all clashed together in a contrapuntal mess in his ears, not so different from how he remembered. Clumped up wires continued tugging on themselves from the bottom of his stomach, the only consistency in his fading in and out of reality, aside from the bedside clock ticking forwards with every second. 

He knew better than to desperately try to block out the dull flashes of mangled limbs and blood splatter imagining themselves his head. Even without images, the scent of dewy grass and dense smoke had long soaked itself into the bedroom walls anyway. The metallic smell of fresh wounds was only on the empty side of the bed, though. Carefully, he turned over towards it and rested a hand on the other pillow. His fingers brushed over its fibres and, for a moment, he just stared. Vacant eyes lingered at nothing in particular.

“Ko-ki-chi,” his empty voice murmured, syllables gracing past his lips with a false hope, as if something would happen after he said them. “Kokichi, Kokichi, Kokichi, Ko… kichi.” Just like back then.

Of course, no response.

It sunk into his head for the three-hundred and sixty-fifth time.

_Alone._

Shuichi hummed with a quiver, a pebble crawling up his throat. Before he knew it, tears streamed past the bridge of his nose, wedging themselves one by one between his temple and the pillow, then soaking into the material. He squeezed his eyes tight and clenched his fist into the pillow, choked sobs escaping through his breath. He pressed his face into his own pillow in attempt to suffocate the noise.

It was insufferable.

He knew it was what he deserved.

For the three-hundred and sixty-fifth time, Shuichi embraced grief, letting it eat away at him and swallow him whole.


	3. Kokichi’s Voicemail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi gives Shuichi a call from the rooftop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a different writing style  
> https://youtu.be/Vg1mpD1BICI for background noise.
> 
> PLEASE CHECK THE TAGS OMG

_Broken Down | Broken Bones |_ _~~Broken Trust~~ _

  
  
…Didn’t feel like picking up, huh? Maaaan, I even planned out a big ol’ speech for you. Oh well, I guess you’re busy licking Kaito’s slippers or… whatever.

Anywaaay, I can practically hear your little detective brain wondering why an evil supreme leader would be reaching out to you, and I can confirm it’s totally _not_ because I need help or anything. Get it? Cool.

You’d better listen up now, cuz here comes the million-dollar question: how are you? Nishishi~! Bet you weren’t expecting that one! Seriously though, it’s been, like, two years since graduation. You might even have a new cell number for all I know.

Lemme think for a sec. Hmmm…

Yup, I got nothing left to lose. Might as well spill the gossip! And you _got_ pay attention, because from here on out, I solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth! So... to put a long story short, I seem to have lost my will to live. Seen it anywhere, detective?!

I’m serious, though.

...

That got dark quickly, huh? It’s true. I, uh, ruined my own life. Now it’s time for me to end it, that’s all. I mean, do you remember me having any friends in high school? I bet even you hated me, right?

I was scared.

I was... so scared of being rejected, I rejected everyone else first. Isn’t that just pathetic? And lemme tell you, nothing’s changed. I still act like an ass and I don’t fit in wherever I go. All I’ve ever been is a stupid liar who everyone hates.

Nee-hee, I might even be lying right now just to get your attention!

  
...is what I wish I could say.

But it’s the truth.

...

Hey, remember how you were always bugging me about the name of my organization? We were called DICE. Research however much you want, it’s not like it matters to me.

Their last member alive is about to jump off a building, after all.

...

I lied, by the way, when I said I planned out this conversation. I actually just felt like talking to you one last time.

...

Wouldn’t it have been funny if I secretly wished you picked up and talked me out of this?

…

Delete this voicemail, m‘kay? Goodnight, Saihara-Chan.

***BEEP***


End file.
